


Disassembly

by Blood_and_Smiles



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Atlas Corporation, Corporations, Drugging, Hyperion Corporation, M/M, Tech Ramble, Triple-Amputee, Twink, space, technical talk, word vomit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:00:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_and_Smiles/pseuds/Blood_and_Smiles
Summary: Jacob with all his bits and pieces, could serve his role only for so long before his looks got him into trouble. Unlucky for him, he's more bits and pieces than actual man.
Kudos: 1





	Disassembly

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the word vomit. I wanted to get something going, particularly in a technologically advanced setting. It... probably ended up as word vomit, but I feel like I'll get the hang of it as I progress with this. Oh- Uh. Once again, this is mostly non-fetish. Mostly, I say because... you'll see.

The thump of music resounded throughout the large room, dozens of ultra-elites scattered throughout the area, some standing in groups, others in booths. Among them all was a unique guy. Jacob Blightheart was… well, to put it politely? A puppet. A corporate doll tossed around as a pretty face to drag in more sales. Loved, but disposable. Tonight, he was up on some fancy space yacht, sent by the Hyperion Corporation to show off the latest prosthetic technology in their line of…- Uh. Prosthetic technology. The cool air of the party area was felt by him, making him shiver, making his skin tense up. He was a little riled up. It was all natural, though. Who wouldn't be tense, having to perform in front of a few dozen rich assholes, and a few dozen more of their less-rich lackeys? He was all dolled up in the Hyperion color scheme, although he wore more revealing clothing. He wasn't whoring himself out, no. He was just showing off the tech. After all, he was a triple amputee with additional physical damage, and given that, he had a whole lot of tech to show off. 

He was a very perky, cute boy, pretty thin. Tall, too. Of course, his great height of 6'5" was all thanks to his prosthetic legs. "Hyperion Duress - Model Line 22.43.A2." They were designated. Or, as the new prosthetics were publicly advertised, "Typhoon".

Tonight, orbiting above Promethea with the green-light from the Atlas Corporation, Jacob was at a classy showcasing event for the super-elite investors of numerous Corporations. Hyperion brought him to show off their prosthetics, seeing as how he had so many of them. 

They were at the front-most part of the space yacht, with massive holo-screens on either side of the room, which showed the vast expanse of space outside. The room was lined with leather couches and chairs, with a bar as the centerpiece, housing all manners of super-expensive alcohols. Everyone here wore extravagant suits and dresses. Rich assholes with sunglasses and platinum rings, all the fixings. Of course, Jacob was only one of them thanks to his position. He was the little product boy. The guy with all the new toys so he could show them off and advertise them.

"Good evening, guys! Thanks for coming to the annual Tech-Flex event! As you know, the Hyperion Corporation prides itself on providing its top investors with shimmering products that are efficient, beautiful, and elegant! That's why I'd like to take a moment to demonstrate our latest prosthetic lines! The new-generation Typhoon Prosthetics are guaranteed to put you above your shallow-pocketed adversaries, no doubt!"

Jacob was very cute, very… girly? Boyish? Androgynous and lovable. In the Hyperion color-scheme, he had bright blonde hair which fell to his shoulders, with the right and back sides of his head shaven clean. The eye covered by his bangs was a sweet and oceanic blue, and the eye which wasn't concealed? An assertive Hyperion yellow. He had a small number of black ear piercings on either ear. Tonight, he wore a short sleeve suit jacket - black with red highlights around the pockets and collar, unbuttoned. He also wore black t-shirt with the Hyperion logo prominently on the front. As for everything below the torso, he wore form-fitting black short-shorts with… the Hyperion logo on his left cheek. Needless to say, he had a bulge. It's the only way, when a guy wears something so tight and small. He wore no socks, no shoes. His attire was very specific, as it seemed to be tailored for the occasion.

"If you'll take your eyes and direct them at me, I'd be happy to demonstrate their functions!"

He had 3 prosthetic limbs, a prosthetic eye, and to top it off, an enhanced cyber-dong. The only fleshy limb he had left was his left arm. His prosthetic limbs were more geometric in shape with black and red military-grade plastics, gold highlights. It matched the Hyperion color scheme perfectly. His right-hand knuckles were plated with gold, and his fingertips were as well. The same could be said about the tips of his prosthetic toes. The shape of his right hand wasn't incredibly boxy, but it was, as per Hyperion style, more geometric. They worked with it, though, making the fingertips end in black claw-like structures.

"The prosthetic arm you see? It's got all the functionality of a standard human arm, with an additional degree of rotation. Of course, parameters are made to be easy to maintain and operate, so hard-locks are put in place to stop excessive rotation. The arm possesses nano-machine sensory devices that form upon contact with a surface, or with noticeable temperature change. Yes, this means you can feel with the arm! A brand new breakthrough of prosthetics! The same can be said about the legs and feet as well!"

The crowd of suits and execs ooh'd and ahh'd at the statement. Well. It was true, prosthetics with sensory capabilities were unheard of until tonight. 

"Now, for the big stuff! The materials used in making the prosthetics are bullet-proof, to a degree, and waterproof!"

Jacob snagged a glass of wine from a nearby table, before slowly pouring it on his arm and legs. Not a sizzle, not a pop. They were in total working order. Of course, he'd need to wipe them off quickly, otherwise they'd get sticky! So he snapped his fleshy fingers, and a butler retrieved a white towel for him. As he cleaned himself up, he looked around with a proud smile.

"Well, uh, we won't show off the bullet-proof nature. Mainly because I'm currently using these, and don't wanna scratch them. But there's more to our brand-new arms, people, much more! Between each knuckle is a brand-spanking-new monomolecular holo-blade! So sharp you could cut a grain of sand in half!"

He lowered his right arm, but raised his forearm. Next, he clenched his fist. With a sizzling hiss, four bright red blades emerged from his knuckles.

"The perfect weapon when you're on the go! Of course, if you need additional firepower, the prosthetic legs have a storage compartment behind the knee, capable of holding Hyperion pistols!"

Jacob tossed the towel he'd used up into the air, slicing through it with the greatest of ease! The crowd of 1%-ers cheered and clapped at his display. He bowed, then again. He was winded, and needed a drink. The showmanship was over, he could get to enjoying the party now. Walking over to the bar, he plopped his tushie onto a barstool and crossed his elbows on the counter.

"Yeesh! That was a lot of business talk, right? Can I get a Dirty Shirley, bartender?" Jacob asked, his cute lips moving with some sort of bouncy, light-hearted energy. His freckled face looked nice in this dim-ish, cozy orange light. 

"Ehh… You sure you want alcohol, kid? You're… kinda small. I mean, small's not a bad thing, it's just- smaller folk handle less alcohol than… er- They get drunk faster." The bartender explained. Jacob wasn't small in the sense of height, but in size. He was a thin boy, even his prosthetics. They were designed to fit his body, anyways. Be proportionate and all that. He'd been cleaning a glass, but at Jacob's request, he hesitantly moved to grab a new one, and the ingredients to make the drink he wanted. He had a bad feeling, but didn't really process it as such. Like an itch. A mental itch you mistake for a physical itch.

"What? Pshhh, no dude! I'll be fine! I'm not a heavyweight or anything, but I can handle a few drinks! Hit me up!" Jacob mused with some infectious eagerness. He was certainly a sweet boy. The bartender nodded with his own smile, sliding the filled glass to Blightheart. His drink, made. All it took was a single sip, and Jacob's eyes lit up. It was good, and you could bet your ass he was gonna tell the bartender.

"Damn, dude! This is great! You're friggin' awesome at mixing! I don't drink too often, but I'll definitely see about coming back soon!" He mused ecstatically, a cute smile spreading across his face. The bartender could only return the gesture, rubbing his neck.

"Shucks, kid. Thanks! You sure know how to butter someone up, don't ya?"

"Haha, sure, if that's how ya wanna put it! I guess it's a skill I picke-" Jacob was tapped on the shoulder, and he turned to face the person who'd done it. It was… definitely a corporate guy. A higher-up, from the cold presence he had. His smile should have been warm from how wide it was. It was infectious, just like Jacob's, but… something felt a little different.

"You're… Mr. Blightheart, right? Handsome Jack's favorite assistant, no? It's an honor! My name's Edward! Call me Ed, Eddie, whatever's better." The stranger said. 

Jacob dropped the smile, picking up a new expression. Something like confusion? He looked dumbfounded, and his bottom lip quivered. Luckily, he had this little bit of training, this piece of mind he'd reserved specifically for awkward scenarios like this. He'd forced himself to learn how to… well, force himself to speak.

"Y-Yeah! Jacob! That's me!" His voice cracked halfway through speaking, and he coughed. 'Cool it, just smile.' he thought to himself. God, this guy was something else. He hadn't even said anything out of the ordinary and Jacob found himself all over the place, struggling.

"Well, Jacob. I've got an executive suite on Promethea and a whole lot of drinks. Wanna come to my place, browse the EchoNet? Those Hyperion stooges probably gave you freetime after this event, am I right?" Edward meandered with his words, a bit slowly and casually. He talked with a sly, handsome grin.

"Erm… S-Sorry dude. I have… Business stuff. Cybernetics… upgrades, uh. Laundry… Full schedule, sorry…!" Jacob stuttered out a reply, his face red. His prosthetic legs seemed to… shiver? They bounced a little bit. Probably subconscious dread manifesting itself. 

"Ah, damn. Oh well, worth a shot. Hey, don't forget to finish your drink, alright? This kinda booze? You might've asked for somethin' typical, but trust me. You'll never get top shelf alcohol like this anywhere else, not without emptying your pockets."

Jacob thought for a moment. His eyes perused the shelves with alcohol bottles on them. As he stared, digital price tags appeared, and he broke out into a cold sweat. Holy shit, this stuff really was expensive. Luckily, it was on the house. Yeah, he'd definitely take advantage of this. Downing the rest of his drink, Jacob would stand and wave goodbye to the bartender and the corporate creep.

"Mhh, see you! I'll be heading back to Helios now. It's probably late there. I think… Bye!"

He seemed to walk with a strut on his way to the exit transports. His prosthetic legs were such high quality, pristine. Golden kneecaps, gold-plated toeprints. Even faux-toenails made of carbon fiber, just for extra style. Step… step… step… He walked on the tips of his toes, sort of like a ballerina, though not as extreme. Step… step… thud. Halfway to his exit transport, he collapsed. And soon after, the casual clack of business shoes came nearer and nearer. Something picked him up, he could feel it. Not for long, though. He couldn't stay conscious forever. Not with drugs of this strength flowing through him.


End file.
